


Roadside Stranger

by ColetheWolf



Series: Smutty Drabbles [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Stiles, Derek Hale Has a Big Dick, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Exhibitionism, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Premature Ejaculation, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Runaway!Stiles, Seduction, Top!Derek, stranger!Derek, virgin!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 19:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf
Summary: Stiles runs away from Beacon Hills to be rebellious, but runs into a hot stranger on the side of the road that gives him something he won't ever forget.





	Roadside Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> This is a drabble. I write them and reblog them onto my smutty drabble blog, alongside gifs @halesparked.tumblr.com
> 
> Original post: https://halesparked.tumblr.com/post/180514292265/stiles-was-going-to-be-that-teenageryeah-that

Stiles was going to be that teenager…yeah, that teenager—the kind of teenager who decided to run away from home because his father was being an insufferable, power-hungry dictator—who only ever wanted to dish out punishment. And yeah….whatever. Stiles’ father was the city sheriff, so he was technically supposed to be a hardass. But nonetheless, Stiles hated how his father didn’t know how to switch off the “dickish cop” routine.

It was fine…Beacon Hills was a boring town anyways. It was small and dreary. Nothing fun or exciting ever happened. Stiles had always fantasized about leaving his hometown to explore the rest of the country. Although, he hadn’t anticipated the fact that the chance would arrive on the back of running away from home. Nonetheless, Stiles was particularly upset by it. He relished in his own decision.

Stiles had been making his way alongside the desolate highway out of Beacon Hills for a handful of hours. It was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was doing its best to ruin Stiles’ rebellious adventure. It blazed down without mercy, turning Stiles into a sweltering mess of sweat. It also didn’t help that Stiles had to lug around his backpack, which was filled with all the essentials of survival—spare clothes, toiletries, water, and a couple packs of dry ramen. 

Eventually, Stiles decided that it was time for a small break. He stopped in the middle of the dry brush that overgrew alongside the shoulder lane of the freeway. Stiles stared up to the cruelness of the sun—swiping his bare forearm across the beaded sweat that drenched his flushed face. Perhaps it had been a poor decision on his part to run away from home during the summer months. He probably should have waited until the winter.

“You got a light?” An unknown voice broke Stiles’ stuffy silence. 

Stiles spun around and involuntarily let out a whimpered moan at the sight of the intimidating stranger. And for a moment, time seemed to stop. The sunlight momentarily chilled and a windy breeze blew through the emptiness of Stiles’ intoxicated mind. Despite the simple question that had been asked, Stiles was too entranced by the sight of the man before him. 

The stranger was wickedly handsome. He was tall and muscular, with messy dark hair, bright eyes, a sculpted beard, and an utterly chaotic sense of fashion. The stranger was wearing a tight black tank top that showcased his biceps, ripped blue jeans, and black leather boots. He looked like some sort of underground rocker dude who loved getting himself into trouble…and Stiles couldn’t will himself away from being immediately interested. 

“I—I don’t smoke.” Stiles responded, scratching through his sweaty hair. 

“That’s not what I asked you.” Derek snarled, crossing his big arms. 

“Well, use context clues, buddy.” Stiles scoffed bitterly. “If I don’t smoke, I’m probably not carrying around a lighter.”

The stranger squinted his eyes inquisitively, stepping closer to the lonesome little runaway. “What’s your name? And what the hell are you doing wandering around out here? You lost or something?”

Stiles gripped tightly at the straps of his backpack, easing the pressure off of his shoulders. “If you really care to know…my name is Stiles and I ran away from home.”

“I did that once when I was younger.” The stranger revealed. “I got myself into a lot of trouble…is that what you’re looking for?”

“Yeah, you look like the kind of person to get into trouble.” Stiles acknowledged dryly. “And no, I’m not trying sour my own personal adventure with whatever inconvenience you bring with you, Mr. Trouble.” 

Stiles gave the stranger a definitive nod and then spun around to continue walking towards the direction that he had been traveling for the past few hours. But then the stranger grabbed onto his wrist —stopping him in his tracks. What the hell was up with this stranger? The creepiness was undoubtedly close to overshadowing the man’s erotic handsomeness…or, at least that was what Stiles told himself. 

“Actually, the name’s Derek—” Derek clarified. “—and you look like the kind of person that’ll enjoy the kind of trouble I’ve got to give.”

Derek closed the distance between his own body and where Stiles stood expectantly in the dry brush. He brought the pad of his thumb up to where some sweat had beaded itself on Stiles’ upper lip —slowly wiping away the moisture. As he did it, Derek stared amorously into the little runaway’s amber eyes, noting the flush of his pink lips, and smiling to himself when he heard the boy’s breath hitch.

“Is this your idea of a ‘come-on’, stranger danger?” Stiles questioned, boldly. “Thumbing away my sweat?”

Derek snickered, humored by Stiles’ unwavering sarcasm. The aura of rebellious energy that dripped off the boy’s body was refreshing and enticing. It was no wonder that Stiles was a runaway. After only knowing him for not more than a few minutes, Derek was certain the boy had probably turned his hometown upside down with obnoxious antics and disregard for law. 

“What’s the point of wearing a shirt if you’ve already sweat through it?” Derek asked, tugging at the center fabric of Stiles’ shirt. “Take it off.”

Stiles looked around cautiously, eyeballing the expanse of the empty freeway and the surrounding fields of brush. It was instinctive—a piece of his brain that warned against making mistakes. He wanted to make sure that there wasn’t anybody else around to watch him undress. But then he realized that he was already undressing for a complete and total stranger from the side of the road. What did it actually matter? His morals had already slipped down the drain.

Stiles let his backpack slide off of his shoulders and bat down onto the dirt ground. He curled his fingers underneath the hem of the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it down onto his backpack. He felt exposed, having never undressed for somebody else. And yet, the heat of the summer sun and the heat of Derek’s lustful eyes blanketed his naked torso.

Derek crawled his fingers delicately along the stretch of Stiles’ naked skin. He thumbed at Stiles’ sensitive nipples, pinching and tugging at them until they were hard and flushed. Derek tickled his fingers through the soft hair that trailed down from the boy’s navel to his abdomen, but disappeared under the waistband of Stiles’ pants. 

It was an enticing preview.

“Take these off.” Derek ordered, tugging at the belt loops of Stiles’ pants.

Stiles bit down on his lip and followed the instructions, hurriedly scrambling to unfasten his belt. As he undid his belt and pants, shucking them down to rest at his ankles, Stiles tried his best to maintain his balance. Although, despite the effort, he wobbled around like the clumsy virgin he actually was. Derek, however, didn’t seem bothered—he just watched. 

There was something tragically dark and brutal inside of Derek’s eyes. Stiles felt himself become quickly addicted to whatever dominant power it was. Even as he fumbled messily with undressing himself, Stiles was reluctant to tear his gaze away from Derek’s. He was lost. He wanted to please Derek. He wanted to be something good and worthwhile, despite not having known Derek for more than a couple minutes. 

“What—are you not going to return the favor?” Stiles asked, glancing down to where he stood in his boxers, whilst Derek remained dressed.

Derek gripped his hands on both sides of Stiles’ hips, pulling the runaway’s responsive body inward to press against his own. He kept Stiles close, staring down to where their clothed erections pressed tightly against one another. It was simplistic stimulation, but regardless, it felt amazing. It sent an unforgiving shiver through both of the two’s bodies. 

The sudden movement and unexpected pressure was more than enough to pull a whimpered moan out of Stiles’ mouth. It was the first time his cock had touched anything else other than his own hand. And even though Derek’s dick was still very much constrained by the jeans he was wearing, it was still very much noticeable. Stiles could feel Derek’s pulsating heat pressed up against his own.

“You feel that—?” Derek asked with a gruff rasp to his voice. “—now, how do you think we’re going to fit it all in that tight virgin ass of yours?”

Stiles exhaled, grinding his erection into Derek’s. He didn’t actually have an answer to the question. He really didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to take Derek’s dick…if that’s where things were heading. At least, that’s obviously where Derek thought things were going. But Stiles was lost for words. Stiles knew that calling things off was a viable decision to make, but with his cock pressed up against Derek’s, he was scatterbrained. 

Derek was big.

He was way bigger than any of the various things that Stiles had experimented with through his lonely little virgin years. Fingers, the fat rubber handle to a cooking utensil, certain waxy phallic vegetables….nothing really seemed as though it would be able to compare to what Stiles was able to feel rubbing up against him. It was intimidating, but not so much that Stiles felt inclined to back down. 

“Oh—oh god.” Stiles breathed. His body jolted and he fell forward into Derek’s body, melting into the feeling of his own cock spurting rapidly against Derek’s clothed hardness. 

“Fucking virgins…” Derek scoffed, clearly miffed. He shoved Stiles backwards and stared down at the runaway’s still erect cock. “ Don’t worry. I bet I can fuck a few more loads out of you.”

“Sorry…I didn’t mean—” Stiles stuttered. 

“Don’t apologize.” Derek rudely cut off. “Get on your knees and take my cock out. I want to wear that pretty little mouth out for a while.”

Stiles dropped down to his knees with a slack-jawed expression of amazement painted across his face. He stared up from under the shadow of his eyelashes at the marvelous bulge that twitched powerfully in Derek’s pants. A pang of nervousness stung the depths of Stiles’ stomach as he quickly undid the front of Derek’s pants, instinctively inhaling a deep breath of surprise as he watched the stranger from the side of the road’s giant cock jut out freely.

Derek cradled the sides of Stiles’ head with his hands and wasted no time. He pushed his heavy cock past the plumpness of Stiles’ nervously bitten lips, slipping deep into the boy’s warm mouth. He growled out like an animal, tossing his head back, and gripping his fingers harshly into the runaway’s messy silky hair. 

As a virgin, Stiles didn’t really have any skill when it came down to giving proper head. Sure, he had seen way more than his fair share of porn, but performing the real thing was different. He was lost —unsure as to what he was supposed to do with the placement of his tongue, with his teeth, and with his hands. So for the first couple minutes, Stiles just remained knelt down on the spiky, dry roadside brush —with his mouth opened wide, letting the savagery of the hung stranger take his mouth. 

Eventually, Stiles realized that he couldn’t hold himself back from shooting his load for the second time in a matter of minutes. His body seized and his eyes rolled into the back of his head whilst he felt his cock bust out another load from where he remained on his knees —spraying messily across the leather of the stranger’s boots. 

Derek laughed, thrusting his cock as deep as he could into the boy’s throat—eliciting the sound of a panicked gag—before he withdrew his wet cock out from between the runaway’s reddened lips. He crudely thumbed around with the precum that dripped lewdly from Stiles’ lips, fighting back the urge to just shove himself back inside the boy’s mouth and continuing to face-fuck him to completion. 

“Get on your back.” Derek ordered hurriedly, gesturing for Stiles to quickly maneuver himself into a new position for the taking. 

Stiles did as he was told. He shuffled around and laid down, letting his back press roughly against the muddy ground. Stiles kicked off his pants and boxers, which had started to restrict his flexibility. All the while, Derek shucked down his own pants and eagerly knelt down to settle in-between the runaway’s spread legs. 

It didn’t take long before Derek pressed his spit-slicked cock into the tightness of Stiles’ virginity, starting the pace off slow and careful. But as Stiles grew more cock-hungry and anxious, Derek elected to give the runaway something that he’d remember for the rest of his life…and Stiles was more than pleased with the act.

Derek pounded brutally into Stiles’ hole. He fucked the boy without ease and without much care for what vicious sounds exploded out into the vacant wilderness around them. Derek made certain work of shoving every thick inch that he had to offer into Stiles’ body, pulling out quickly, before fucking himself back into the warm and welcoming tightness. 

Stiles went mad. He cried out and screamed for more, scratching desperately into the meat of Derek’s muscular shoulders and arms. He kicked his legs up into the air—watching absentmindedly at the way that his red shoes flopped around like a flag of surrender under the strength of a stranger’s unforgiving pace. Stiles swore that he could feel the stranger’s incredible length spear so deep into his body that it prodded against his soul. 

But as quick and as roughly as the whole roadside hookup had begun, everything ended. Derek cried out—losing his punishing rhythm as he felt himself destroy the abused inner walls of the runaway beneath him. At the same time, Stiles came for the third time—even harder than he had for the past couple times. It was done. It was over. But every taste, every smell, every feeling, was forever seared into the memories of the two.


End file.
